


A POEM ON THE UNDERGROUND WALL

by adotham (Bates)



Series: Home [1]
Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - College/University, Crushes, F/M, First Dates, Friends to Lovers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-25
Updated: 2016-06-25
Packaged: 2018-07-18 03:53:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,521
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7298407
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bates/pseuds/adotham
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p> </p><div class="center">
  <p> </p>
  <p>    <i>“He meets Theodosia in a coffee shop in January '97.”</i><br/></p>
</div><div class="center">
  <p> ☆</p>
</div><b>WE LAUGH;</b> Aaron Burr meets Theodosia Bartow Prevost in the cold, snowy winter of 1997. He falls in love with her; with the way she smiles, she acts, with all of her.
            </blockquote>





	A POEM ON THE UNDERGROUND WALL

**Author's Note:**

> So, hi. First chapter to the first installment of a four part series. This is a fill for [this](http://hamiltonprompts.tumblr.com/post/141684474888/we-laugh-and-we-cry-and-we-break-and-we-make-our) prompt over at [hamiltonprompts](http://hamiltonprompts.tumblr.com/).
> 
> I can't promise quick updates for now, because of exams and other fics getting in the way, but I do hope to update approximately once every two to three weeks? Probably quicker, because these chapters aren't 7k chapters, like my other fic. If anything ever bothers you about my characterisation of any of the characters, please let me know, through comment or [tumblr](http://mriareynolds.tumblr.com/ask).
> 
> Anyway, hope you enjoy! c:

 

 

I tell myself, that you are only a moment. How in

 this universe full of moments, we’re just two stars

that found the same orbit. (…)

 

I tell myself that it doesn’t matter if someday I cannot

hold the soft mass of you in my arms. 

That I will love you properly here and now. 

 

What I mean is, if we are a moment, I want us to track through

forever with our dirty shoes and our suitcases.

If we are a moment, let it be  now and now and now.”

                                                                                                                     “Chasing Tails”

**Azra T.**

 

_-:¦:--:¦:--:¦:--:¦:--:¦:--:¦:-_

 

 _It’s a dreary morning._ Aaron Burr has no other words to describe the biting cold that still clings to the air that early January morning. The snow is slowly soaking through his beanie and the cold is biting right through his clothes. As if all of that isn't bad enough, he almost slips on the ice in the few metres he needs to walk to get from his car to the employee entrance to the coffee shop.  _Such a wonderful morning._ Really.

Alexander is already in the shop when he goes to the locker room to get changed. Aaron can hear the clatter of chairs as he pulls his shirt on over the thermal. Not even the unruly weather could knock him off of his schedule. The traffic on the road is terrible – something about five hours of snow and traffic accidents blocking up highways, he didn't bother to listen properly while the broadcasters explained – and yet here is Alexander. Punctual as always.

Alexander is...well, Alexander is Alexander. Pain in the ass who works hard to get to wherever he needs to be in life and who somehow manages to be energetic,  _even_  at half past six.

“The machines are preheating.”

“Thanks. Sorry again, for being late.” It’s not like he’s that late, just ten minutes really, but it bugs him. Bugs him and probably his boss when they check the records and notice he wasn’t on time. The ten minutes won’t matter. Customers will be stuck in the snow, so the breakfast and lunch rush should pick up later than usual. _It won’t matter._

“Don’t worry Burr, I have the key.” There are more beeps and later, the whirring of the oven. “Snow?”

            “Isn’t everybody stuck because of it?” Everyone _is_ stuck. The radio hasn’t stopped mentioning car accidents and traffic jams in the last hour – songs are being interrupted to tell people highways are closed. It’s a mess. “Not everyone can live a five-minute walk from their workspace. Anyway — I’ll get the cakes started…” He runs the checklist in his head. Because of the snow, it’s likely they’ll have a slow morning, so of some of the things don’t get done, it should be fine. He can do them while Alexander mans the machine. “Do you-”

            “Mind doing the tables? On it.” Just like that, he’s off with the dishcloth and all Aaron can hear above the radio is the scraping of chairs and the soft whirring of the oven. Maybe Alexander singing along softly, it’s hard to make out above the noise.

            It’s going to be a long day. He can feel it in his bones.

_-:¦:--:¦:--:¦:--:¦:--:¦:--:¦:-_

 

The first customers start trickling in at around eight am. By nine, the breakfast rush has really picked up enough for them to be too busy to even say anything. The change is more than welcome, it's a distraction from Alexander's boundless energy. On most days, he doensn't mind it all that much; in a way he thinks it's adorable how he sings along under his breath and runs around the shop like a ghost. Now however, he's had three hours of sleep and he needs at least five point five hours to handle him; five hours to be awake and the other point five to mentally prepare himself.

 _She_ makes it better, somehow. She? Theodosia. Around ten am, she walks in with snow melting in her hair and a big scarf wrapped around her. Even though it’s still snowing, she’s probably the least moody person he’s seen today and that is counting himself. All she does is sigh when she enters, rub her hands together and unwrap her scarf so it’s no longer half strangling her before walking up and waiting in line until the person before her has their coffee.

            For more than a fleeting moment, Aaron thinks that she’s quite possibly the most beautiful woman he’s seen in a long time. He can’t pinpoint what it is exactly that draws him in, but when he sees her, his heart might just skip a beat. Maybe two. It’s clear she’s older than they are; she carries it with her; in the bags under her eyes and the slight slump of her shoulders. The way everything in her almost seemed to scream ' _please take a while I have too many files on my desk and they all needed to be done yesterday'._

            They don’t exchange many words. She orders her Americano and even though Alexander is about to take his fifteen-minute break, he asks her for her name to write on the cup anyway.

            “Theodosia,” she says and automatically spells it out for him. “A bit like Theodore, but then with -osia.” He promises her that her drink will be right up.

            “Burr, you mind wrapping this one up?” Alexander asks him, an innocent, knowing smirk on his lips. “I’m going to take my break now if you don’t mind.” He doesn’t mind in the slightest, but that, he doesn’t tell him. She jokes about him not needing her name after all and he laughs with her.

            Except for them, the coffee shop is practically empty, so while the machine works, they share some small talk about the weather, which is wet and not good for her braids – they’d just completely dried, that never happens, so of course, it snows. He wants to ask her why she doesn't just wear  beanie -- it's his usual form of defence even if he doesn't have a lot of hair -- but he remembers the entire afternoons wasted whenever Sally would get her hair braided and how much she hated having to tame it after wearing  _anything_ on her head.

            He's almost sad to see her leave when her coffee is done. She bids him goodbye and throws him a smile and gone she is. Aaron doesn't notice how her scarf is still lying on the till until the next customer hands it to him and she's already gone. He ignores Alexander's look when he puts it away in the back. The least he can do is keep it safe for her.  _Maybe she'll come back for it_.

 

Return, she does. Theodosia returns, a week later. The snow has cleared and hair is undone. It looks different when it’s not braided; it changes her entire appearance and he doesn’t know which he prefers. The braids are nice, but the afro makes her look younger, more vibrant. Both suit her, more than suit her. She thanks him for keeping it safe and he doesn't say anything. He just hopes that, when she opens her bag with the three coffees she fetched for herself and her coworkers, she enjoys the muffin he sneaked in.

            She comes by again three weeks later and then slowly, more frequent. After a while, Aaron knows her order from the top of his head. They do more small talking and it’s nothing, but he feels himself falling slowly in love with her; with the way she speaks and her laughing, with the dimples in her cheeks.

 

_-:¦:--:¦:--:¦:--:¦:--:¦:--:¦:-_

 

They officially exchange names one quiet morning. He’s manning the shop on his own for a while when she enters — Alexander is out on a last minute flour and egg run because they ran out. It’s still early enough for every sound to seem loud and piercing. Especially the machines high pitched screaming is almost deafening that day. Maybe it's just because he's just that little bit hungover from the previous night.

            “My name’s Aaron, by the way,” he tells her before passing her her coffee. He doesn’t even know why he does it, he has no real reason to. “Aaron Burr. In case you were curious.”

            “Good to put a name to the face,” she says with a smile. “Theodosia.” She shakes her head at him. “Theodosia Bartow Pr...” Her words trail off. “Bartow Prevost,” she finally finishes. “You knew that already.” He laughs at her words, because yes, he knows. He’s known since day one –- one of the beauties of working at a coffee shop with takeaway cups.

            “It’s a beautiful name."

            “Why thank you,” she says and the smile she throws him is enough to make his insides feel like glue, even for just a minute. “Have a good day, Aaron.”

            “You as well, Theodosia.”

            “Call me Theo,” she offers. “It’s shorter. Theodosia’s a bit of a mouth full.” Theodosia is out of the door before he can answer her, but his grin feels like it’s plastered to his cheeks. John shakes his head at him, mouths something and in that moment, Aaron is  _more_ than glad he doesn't read lips well.

 

When they're closing up a month later --  John pestering them for still working while he waits for Alex to be done -- Alexander tells him she only smiles _that_ way when he’s around. Part of him wants to ask  _what_ that smile is, but it's late and he hasn't eaten since breakfast. All he wants is to get home, crawl in bed and forget that anything ever happened that day.

            “I don’t think she really smiles that much,” he offers up while cleaning up the final tables. “Not that she’s rude or anything. No smiles, though.” In the next five minutes of babbling Aaron mosly tunes out – he’s had too much time with Alexander in the past weeks – he tells him that she acts perfectly fine; she orders her coffee, thanks whoever is behind the bar and leaves, but she never smiles the way she does when she sees him.

            Secretly –- though not so secretly, the fact that Alexander knows is written on his face –- he’s more than flattered.

            "Is that good news, Burr?" John asks from his place on the bar. "Does your lady like you?" He takes pride in the yelp that follows when he pokes him with a still sugar-stained cake server and John falls off the bar.

            "At least I  _have_ someone who realizes. A bit of an improvement to your situation, ain't it?" Maybe he enjoys it a bit too much, but honestly.  _Sue him_ , he deserves to laugh a bit and he'd win the lawsuit regardless. His quick glance at Alexander only confirms his suspition. "Call it a night, I'll finish up."

 

 

One morning, he writes his number on the side of the cup and waits in anticipation until that phone call or message arrives. He waits and waits and waits but there is no ringing. It doesn’t happen, not for a long time. He waits and he waits, but three days pass and there’s nothing. He waits some more until the display finally lights up.

            “Aaron Burr speaking,” he says, hoping the adrenaline rushing through his veins isn’t too obvious. Aaron likes to think of himself as someone who knows what he wants. He knows how to get where without paying for it himself. He _doesn’t_ make sudden decisions. Everything is calculated, in a way. Writing his phone number on the cup hadn’t been. It fell out of his control and while he’s glad he did it, it’s out of his control and he doesn’t like it.

            But then she laughs, soft and sweet and his heart rate quickens again for just a moment, not with anxiety this time. It’s the effect she has on him.

            “You took a risk. I’m glad you did.” Aaron thinks he can hear her smile. “Why did you?”

            There're a million things he can say to that. He can say it’s because he’s been mesmerized since the first day. He can say it’s because she’s been really nice to talk to. Because he’s been attracted to her since the first step she set into the coffee shop. He can’t get around the fact that he’s a charmer. Always has been. He knows his way around flirty conversation. With her, however, he doesn’t know what to say, he’s all the more aware of each word he wants to say. She silences him more efficiently than anything ever has.

            Maybe also because he’s noticed she’s stopped wearing her wedding ring.

            All he does say, is that he doesn’t know. “I don’t know, but I’m glad I did.”

            “Makes two of us. My sister in law was supposed to be coming in tomorrow, catch up -" she trails off for a moment. "Nothing special really, anyway, we had a reservation. Would you like to take her place? I was going to call and cancel, but.”

            “I’d-love-to,” he says, words rushed. “What time?”

            “Seven – it’s at this little Italian place across town, five minutes from the coffee shop.” He has work tomorrow, but he’s sure that he can get around it, maybe leave a bit earlier to get changed. “If you have work, I can pick you up there, six-thirty?”

            “Sounds perfect.”

 

They toe the line of not a date-actual date the entire night. It’s almost too easy, forgetting that she’s married and that they’re not a thing, that he has no right of looking at her like he knows he has been doing. She's just so gorgeous tonight. Her hair is braided again and pulled into a bun, her make up light, but there.

            Yet, he does stare. He loses himself in every time she grins widely or laughs at something she says. Mostly, she talks about her work – as a lawyer – which is stressing her out and having her come home at six pm and more generally speaking, what life is like. He comes back with stories of his own, with things that happen at the shop and how this is just a temporary thing so he can save up some money, maybe get into a local college. She nods apologetically but doesn’t throw him the pity eyes. She doesn’t mention how he might as well man the coffee machine forever.

            The night goes well. They walk to the café together so he can get his car and she lingers, for just that little bit. He tells her how he really enjoyed himself.

            “Me too,” she says with a smile, “hearing you complain about the coffee was great.” He can feel his cheeks redden, but if she notices, she doesn’t mention it. “I had fun, thank you for joining me.”

            “It would have been a shame to throw away a reservation. Have a wonderful rest of your night, Theo.” She presses a kiss to his cheek and gets to her car and the magic is broken, but he can still feel his skin tingle when he gets home and quite possibly, that’s the highlight of the entire night.


End file.
